The Cure Finally Appears in South East Asia (Singapore)

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Author: teropong | August 9, 2007 - 2:45 pm

the cure robert smith Almost 30 years since its official formation, The Cure finally made its first appearance in South-East Asia at the Singapore Indoor Stadium last Wednesday, performing over three hours of three decades worth of material. This was the third leg of their 2007 Australasian tour.

The Cure officially formed after several incarnations in Crawley, Sussex, England in 1979 – so the wait for the band to finally tour this part of the world has been an excruciating long one. For the fans, it didn’t matter who was in the band with Robert Smith on this tour – just as long as The Cure showed up in Singapore.

Smith, regarded as the band’s svengali multi-instrumentalist, front-man is the only constant member. Smith is The Cure – ex-members learnt this the hard way.

Smith is neither Anita Sarawak nor Oprah. He doesn’t do rapport. His lyrics convey his message. However, he is polite, and will thank you when you applaud.

The Cure is generally described as “goth”. Smith hates this definition. Looking at bands which call themselves “goth” these days, one understands why. The Cure is certainly eclectic, a juxtaposition of post punk, goth, psychedelia, and pop.

Even though the band is known in this region mainly for songs such as Love Song and Friday, I’m in Love, the Cure has released 12 studio albums, several compilations, various EPs and singles, remixes and rarities.

In the 4 Tour global trek, Smith stripped their line-up down to a guitar-driven configuration, featuring long-time transient members Simon Gallup (bass), Porl Thompson (guitars) and Jason Cooper (drums). Keyboards were replaced by minimal sequencing and guitar arrangements, masterfully executed by Smith and Thompson.

The band took the stadium stage in full regalia, black apparel, clumpy boots and shiny silver.

The show started right on time in light of the marathon live session ahead – of course, nightfall is essential for a gig by The Cure. No sunlight to damage the pale goth skin tones of those hardcore fans rushing into the standing arena.

The most striking and iconic member of the band, Smith, is disturbingly intriguing. A large, Edward Scissorhands-meets-Raggedy Ann, with bird’s-nest hair, mascara and smeared lipstick, he’s sometimes hardly moving, and other times skipping from across the stage like a school girl, stopping only to stare intently at the audience.

They opened aptly with Open, a lament about the drawbacks of fame (I can’t take it anymore/ This it I’ve become/ This is it like I get/ When my life’s going numb).

The band then launched into a raw version of Fascination Street. This was followed by Strange Day, which trawled the depths of despair (Give me your eyes/ That I might see/ The blind man kissing my hands), before they broke the surface, shook off water to the flamenco pulse of The Blood, plunged the stadium deep into A Night Like This and rode the crest to The End of the World.

Cooper and Gallup delivered a steady rhythmic foundation for Smith and Thompson to build their guitar work upon and trade riffs. Smith’s wavering vocals punctuated with howls and squeals of delight clinched the Cure sound. Lighting was simple but effective, purple, white, red and green lights framed the band perfectly, mind-tickling strobes and lots of fog. At the packed-out venue (over 7,000 fans), the sound was excellent, all instrumentation and vocals came through clearly.

The stadium erupted when the band struck up the opening chords to Smith’s gift to his wife and the lovers of the world, Love Song.

The Cure’s darkly-lit songs, despite the years, have never gone out of fashion as tortured, introverted souls revelled in the nihilism of One Hundred Years (It doesn’t matter if we all die), Kyoto Song, The Drowning Man, and If Only Tonight We could Sleep.

The crowd was lapping it all up religiously. Entranced finger dancers caught halos, held their breaths and shook to Lullaby, The Kiss, From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea and Never Enough. Feng Tau enthusiasts grooved away to the lively Wrong Number.

Throughout the show, the perky goth in everyone burst, grinned, giggled, blissed, skipped, jumped, sang and shouted to the perfect pop tunes, In Between Days, Hot! Hot! Hot!, Just Like Heaven and the MTV staple, Friday, I’m in Love.

The band ended the main set, aptly again, with End, another lament about the downside of fame and fortune (I think I’ve reached that point/ Where every wish has come true/ And tired disguised oblivion/ Is everything I do).

They took a short break, and then returned for the first encore. A pop set, Smith shed his guitar and flailed around the stage, possessed by Delirium and denizens of Faerie. The band coaxed 1980s dance moves from the crowd with Love Cats, Close to Me with an unexpected bluesy solo from Thompson, and Why Can’t I Be You?

The last encore was a gift. The band performed half of their post-punk debut Three Imaginary Boys. Beginning with the atmospheric title track, the songs kept on coming. The energy carried through 10:15 Saturday Night and climaxed with the controversial Killing an Arab.

Three hours and 10 minutes. Smith set his guitar against his amp, thanked the audience and left the stage, feedback piercing the darkness.

After 38 songs, it may seem ungrateful to complain but where was A Forest, Charlotte Sometimes and Play for Today?

We remind ourselves that The Cure gave us over three hours worth of songs that spanned almost 30 years since Three Imaginary Boys.

And we thank them for this.

source : Mass Media

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